Dear Memories,

You have a strange relationship with the truth. Not exactly dishonest but just heavily edited. With time, you take situations that once felt like multiple stab wounds and reduce them to a slight wince. The nights I couldn’t sleep, the conversations I replayed endlessly, the people I thought I’d never stop missing eventually become, “Yes, that was a difficult time.” Difficult? I distinctly remember thinking I would never be the same again. Your PR team for my past is exceptional.

But perhaps your greater cruelty is what you do to happiness. There were moments when I was so ridiculously happy that I consciously thought, Please let me remember exactly how this feels. And I don’t. I remember what happened. I remember the place, the people, sometimes even what I was wearing. But the euphoria itself has disappeared. What once filled my entire emotional universe is now simply a spike on some imaginary feelings graph: You were very happy here. Useful information. Shame about the actual feeling.

Maybe that’s your mercy. If we could fully relive our worst moments, we’d become too frightened to risk anything again. If we could fully relive our happiest ones, we’d spend our lives desperately trying to return to places, people and versions of ourselves that no longer exist. So you dilute both. Pain becomes survivable. Joy becomes nostalgia.

And then, occasionally, you malfunction. A song plays. A familiar perfume passes by. Someone uses a particular phrase. And suddenly I’m not remembering at all…I’m there. For three seconds, the distance between then and now disappears. The ache returns or the butterflies or that ridiculous happiness or the tear down the cheek and before I can hold onto it, it’s gone!

Maybe growing older isn’t about forgetting. Maybe it’s about remembering without bleeding. Looking back at all those enormous highs and devastating lows and realizing that neither lasted forever. The heartbreak I thought would destroy me didn’t. The happiness I thought would last forever didn’t either.

So, dear Memories, keep doing your questionable editing. Blur what needs blurring. Soften what needs softening. But every once in a while, when you bring back something beautiful, don’t just remind me what happened.

Let me remember how it felt.

Just for five seconds.

I promise I won’t ask to stay.

Till later!